Alice and Cheshire Go to Swilly's
by nikkilittle
Summary: Alice and Cheshire go uptop to a fastfood restaurant, and Alice gets mistaken for a terrorist. Alice also becomes Wonderland's first pinup girl. Alternate Universe: introducing a modern American Alice in a real Wonderland. Alice/Cheshire.


Alice and Cheshire Go to Swilly's

By Nikki Little

One of the handiest things about Wonderland is that there are so many people "uptop" who use the rabbit hole as a clandestine waste dump. Most of the stuff they throw down here is usable to some degree. For example, everybody has, courtesy of our local tech genius and electricity guru The Mad Hatter, a frankenstein Dell/Compaq desktop computer that runs Linux. You don't think we're mad enough down here to use Windows, do you? Anyway, one day another Dell desktop came crashing down the rabbit hole and the back plate popped off when it landed. When the back plate popped off, about $2000 in US currency came flying out. Now down here in Wonderland, there is no money. No medium of exchange. We all have our roles to play in this society. Bill D. Lizard, Mr. White, and I brew up all of Wonderland's hooch. I'm also the designated slayer of our tastiest mushrooms. Unfortunately, the appropriately named "Killer Mushrooms" fight back. You gotta kill them before you can pick them. The Mad Hatter runs the electric plant, the water plant, the sewage plant, and just about anything else technical in Wonderland. Quite a few of the gnome men help him run the plants. He's our Thomas Edison and is absolutely irreplaceable. Don't ask me where daylight comes from in Wonderland. I still haven't figured that out. Nothing down here really makes sense. Anyway, the money was quite a windfall because it meant that Cheshire and I could sneak "uptop" for a shopping trip. When you consider that there's not much to eat down here besides mushrooms, nuts, berries, and the rabbit food coming out of Mr. White's vegetable patch, it's obvious that our first choice was some good old fashioned greasy American fast food. Now I'm a quasi-vegetarian and Cheshire survives mostly off of the small fish in Wonderland's streams. We needed to pick a place that serves fish. We decided on Swilly's. Now Swilly's isn't the greatest fast food from what I've heard, but they do have a reputation for consistency. I didn't want to get a half-raw fish sandwich. Cheshire obviously doesn't care if his fish is raw, but I do. We started to make our plans for the trip.

There was, of course, no thinking involved in deciding what to wear. I had in my closet one dozen little blue dresses, all identical. All size twos. I was a really bony-looking waif. Cheshire doesn't wear clothes. Sometimes it looks like he doesn't even wear fur. Mangy cat. Oh, well...I still love him. All trips "uptop" are considered dangerous, and the next problem was deciding what weapons to take with us, just in case. Now naturally I had no desire to leave a trail of bodies behind me like I did in our civil war, so I picked out the least lethal weapons I've got: my Bowie knife and the Looking Glass which can make whatever it reflects invisible for about 20 seconds. I have no idea of how it works, but then, down here, nothing really make sense. I do know that it takes an hour or two to recharge after use. How it "recharges" is also a mystery. Oh yeah, and my spinning top. Nice little tornado it creates. Throws everything in it's path around. Non-lethal, although it'll bang anybody up pretty good. We were set.

Now you'd think that Cheshire and I would stand out like a sore thumb on a sidewalk "uptop", but Americans are so self-absorbed and oblivious that we figured Cheshire could even get away with walking upright and nobody would notice. I didn't really look all that unusual: I was a red-haired, freckle-faced, five-foot-tall, one-hundred-pound tomboy who tromped around Wonderland with a Bowie knife strapped to her hip. I looked like Huckleberry Finn. The Bowie knife never leaves my hip, even when I'm asleep. I feel naked without it. Cheshire thinks that he is an unusually large species of domestic cat. He's a lynx. A very large lynx about the size of a cougar. I've never had the heart to tell him that he's not a domestic cat. I'm sure he'd be crushed to find out that he's a lynx from Arctic regions who somehow lost his way. Did I mention that he can talk? Oh, yes. He speaks flawless English with a charming Scottish accent. Sometimes I'd swear that he's Sean Connery in disguise. Charming rogue he is. Scrawny as hell, but then, who was I to talk? I had the shape of an underfed eleven-year-old boy. I cringed at the sight of my own reflection in mirrors. Oh well, at least I didn't look as emaciated as Keira Knightley. Somebody should hang a sign around her neck that says "Feed me."

The usual way to go "uptop" is the catapult. Now it's one of the wonders of Wonderland that the rabbit hole looks absolutely huge when you're standing down under it: it looks so huge that it's nearly impossible for the catapult to miss the hole. Of course if it does miss, it's not really that painful. The underside of the hole is a nice soft flower patch. The bottom of the rabbit hole is also a nice soft flower patch. I'd estimate the distance at about fifteen feet. Just enough to prevent curious teenagers from throwing a rope over the side. "Uptop," the rabbit hole looks rather small. Just big enough for two people to squeeze through simultaneously. Did I mention that it's in the backyard of an insane asylum? Oh, yes. I'm an escapee. Well, you already knew that, didn't you? I got tired of being doped up with enough drugs to kill a hippie. Anyway, there's a stream with a wooded border that's right next to the rabbit hole. A handy way to make one's way to the sidewalk in front of the insane asylum without being seen. Of course, you already know that there's a Swilly's within a mile of almost anywhere in any U.S. city. Swilly's is the only empire with more outposts than the U.S. military.

Our route was to make it to the sidewalk, turn left and walk to the intersection, and then cross the street. Just across the street on the corner was a Swilly's. It's less than a mile walk, and we in Wonderland think nothing of walking a mile. I reminded Cheshire that it was probably best for him to walk on all fours to avoid possibly distracting a driver and causing a wreck.

We got into the catapult and Bill pulled the lever. Zoom! Up and out we went. We dashed into the shallow creek bed and made our way to the sidewalk. Cheshire remembered to walk on all fours. I was impressed. I had no need to worry. The "uptop" world wasn't like anything I remembered. I couldn't remember when I had made my last trip uptop. I had always been afraid of being recognized by a staff member at the insane asylum. I escaped when I was 19 and now I'm in my forties. Not much chance of being recognized even though I looked pretty much the same except for the addition of a few faint wrinkles on the face. Fortunately for me, Cheshire didn't seem to care about that. He was getting a few gray hairs himself. Anyway, as I was saying, the uptop world wasn't anything like what I remembered: I had never seen such self-absorbed, oblivious people. Everyone was walking around with these Star-Trek communicator devices glued to their ears. It was amazing. Gab, gab, gab... People would hold the most intimate of conversations within earshot of total strangers. I felt like a Peeping Listener. People also relayed a constant report on their whereabouts as if it were of earth shattering importance. Even people driving around in cars all had these things growing out of their ears. Everybody in a car had his windows rolled up even though it was summer. I guess now air conditioning was standard in all cars. What a bunch of wusses! If my Wonderland sounds strange to you, you have no idea of how weird your world looks to me.

We crossed the street and walked in the side door up to the counter. There were almost no customers inside, and nearly all of the employees were occupied at a window where cars drove up and the occupants picked up their order. The activity along the side wall where the orders were assembled was absolutely frantic. All of the employees looked to be teenagers or in their early twenties. Nobody else could keep up a pace like that for even four hours. Not even me. I motioned for Cheshire to go sit at a table and I would get the order. No need to call attention to a cougar-sized cat in Swilly's. Finally a manager walked up and I gave the order for two "Fish Combos." Swilly's seems to have a language all of their own. I remembered enough of my old life "uptop" to know that I should wait at the counter until the order was ready. It was nearly ten dollars -- a lot more than the last time I remembered being in a Swilly's. It only took a minute or two and I carried the order back to the table with Cheshire. He was sitting up and looked very human-like in such a pose. Rather distinguished, actually. I sat the bag down on the table and we noticed that oil or grease was already soaking through the paper bag. We unwrapped the food and Cheshire and I took a few bites of the sandwiches and "freedom fries." Who came up with the weird idea to call french fries "freedom fries"? I was startled at how oily and greasy everything was and commented to Cheshire "If you ever wanted to fatten me up any, this sure would be the place to bring me."

Cheshire informed me that he had been trying to figure out how to put some weight on my scrawny frame for twenty years and had run out of ideas. Nothing worked. Well, in Wonderland there's not much to eat except vegetarian fare, so naturally we're all skinny down there. I asked him with a sneer, "Did you ever think of chocolate? I'd be fat if there were chocolate bars in Wonderland." It never occurred to me that I might later regret telling him that.

The oily sandwich and french fries started to turn my stomach and I pulled my Bowie knife out to look at my reflection in the blade. Big mistake. While I was turning green, I heard a crash back in the kitchen and saw an employee frantically dialing on one of those Star Trek Communicators. Since everybody used those things, I didn't think anything of it. I took a few more bites and decided that finishing the meal would not be a good idea. I walked over to the receptacle that housed a trash can and yanked it out. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatt! Oh, yeah...I was just a fantastic advertisement for Swilly's food. Puking it up right there in their dining room. An employee walked by and I said "Excuse me. Could you hand me a napkin? Thank you." Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatt!

Cheshire saw them first. At both doors groups of Queen George's card guards...excuse me, "Homeland Security"...burst in. Ever the quick-thinking cat, Cheshire tossed the greasy food onto the floor in as wide a dispersion as possible. The card guards...excuse me, "Homeland Security"...went flying in all directions like a bunch of Keystone Cops and all landed on their keisters. First rule of combat in Wonderland: if you need an exit and there isn't one, make one! Out came the knife. "Crash!" Right through a window. Cheshire and I leaped through the window and the knife did what it always does in Wonderland: it came right back to me. I tossed the spinning top into the hole and off we ran as a mini-tornado started up right where I had broken the glass. Have fun card guards! Excuse me, "Homeland Security."

There was a helicopter overhead, and we decided that I was going to have to do something I had never done before: ride Cheshire. He had been riding me for twenty years, so it was about time I got my turn! He could run even faster than me, and it would take everything to get back to the hole before the card guards, excuse me..."Homeland Security"...in the helicopter got us. By this time the spinning top had also done its returning act, and I pulled out the looking glass. Poof! Alice and Cheshire gone! For twenty seconds, anyway. At the hole, there was no time to wait for the usual way to get down --we were now visible again -- which was to let the customs official move the extended ladder to the hole. We did it combat style: I grabbed Cheshire and jumped. My dress did its usual magic and we landed with a bit of a thump. I noticed that a lot of the gnomes were out and about, and nearly all of the women looked very pissed off. Cheshire whispered in my ear: "Alice, you're in your forties. Don't you think it's about time you started wearing panties?" Oops.

A couple of weeks after our trip "uptop" I saw a red ribbon tied to an unused closet in my bedroom. Cheshire must have climbed in through the window again. I opened the closet and was startled to see stacked up high on the formerly empty shelves 50 boxes of 3.5-ounce bars of Valrhona milk chocolate. There were 20 bars in each box. Did Cheshire know how much I loved milk chocolate? Did he know I hadn't had any since I had escaped from the insane asylum? He had dumped Pandora's box into my closet. I had never heard of Valrhona chocolate and opened one bar. The first taste was ecstasy. I had never tasted anything like this in my life. Almost all other chocolate was garbage compared to this. Did that cat realize what he had just done? I suspected that all he wanted was a girlfriend who was more-or-less "normal"-looking. I was the most amazing hayburner in Wonderland, but I was worried. I was convinced that I was sure to get fat on this stuff. Of course I genuinely wanted some additional weight because I hated looking like an eleven-year-old boy, but I did not want to end up a size 20. Size 8 was fine, even size 14 was tolerable, but not a size 20. Damn you, Cat! I finished the bar. Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh...Valrhona...thy name is temptation. Throwing away the chocolate was absolutely out of the question. "Be careful what you wish for Cat, you may get it," I thought.

Unfortunately for Cheshire, the chocolate had an unexpected side effect on me. Maybe it was the caffeine. Who knows? It dramatically increased my appetite for a certain other "something." Our once-a-day "wrestling matches" in the mushroom patch were no longer enough for me. I starting dragging Cheshire out there three or four times a day. One day about ten weeks after our trip "uptop" I showed up at Cheshire's cabin and he blurted out, "Augh! I just can't take it any more! You're killin' me! I'm a cat! Not a sex machine you can just flip a switch on!" He dropped on his bed and started to snore. I had never in my life heard Cheshire snore before. I didn't have a scales in my house and pulled down a scales that I knew Cheshire kept in a closet. My size-2 dresses had started getting snug and I was curious. One hundred and eight. Most women would panic at gaining eight pounds, but I was happy. I needed to go to my gnome tailor and have some of my dresses let out. They were all size-2 and I figured it wouldn't be long before I had nothing that would fit. I asked her for a size six and a size eight. She asked me if I was pregnant. I just smiled and didn't respond. "Keep smiling, girl," I thought.

A week later I found another box in the closet with all the chocolate. I opened it and found a plastic device that looked like a long, thick carrot. I looked on the side and there was Hatter's traditional hand-engraved emblem, "Hatter's Clockworks." I looked at it and thought "No! It couldn't be! He doesn't even know such things exist!" I flicked the switch. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...! It was. It was a vibrator.

I took the device to Hatter and asked him where he had gotten the idea. He said it was Cheshire's own invention. "A brand-new invention! Who besides Cheshire would ever be crazy enough to think of this! We're going to take these things uptop and sell a million of them!" I didn't have the heart to tell him.

A year has gone by since Cheshire dumped Pandora's Box into my closet. He pretty much got his wish, but so did I. I didn't get fat on the chocolate, but I did get a bit chubby. Since the extra weight gave me a feminine figure that I've never had before, I have no desire to lose the padding. For the first time since childhood, I like what I see in the mirror. I'm so vain! I'm still a hayburner, and it's a struggle to keep the weight. Cheshire can't keep his eyes off me and has been exercising in an attempt to get in good enough shape for at least two "wrestling matches" a day with me. He is more attentive than he has ever been and sometimes even acts jealous when the Mad Hatter is around. He needn't worry. Cheshire has me all to himself. I even had one of my dresses embroidered at the bottom: "Only for Cheshire". You can imagine how he struts around Wonderland on days when I'm wearing that dress. We are all but married. Hatter isn't so sweet to me anymore and often makes insulting remarks about my weight. I just smile at him. I'm kind of glad that he's no longer pining away for me. I used to feel so guilty, but his superficiality has stripped away any guilt I ever felt. Unexpected is that the gnome men are always staring at me nowadays. I've heard there's actually a tame sort of pin-up photo of me floating around the gnome village. Seems somebody got hold of a cell phone with a camera and figured out how to hook it up to his junk computer. A photo of me leaning up against a wall tossing my Bowie knife up in the air. I've never seen it. The gnome men seem to think I'm Judy Garland – Judy Garland with red hair and freckles. I'm actually quite flattered. Maybe the next time I see a cell phone in the gnome village, I'll strike a pose for the holder. Thank you for the chocolate, Cheshire. Most women would want to kill you, but I'm happy you gave it to me.

The End

About the Author:

Miss Alice lives in Wonderland with the White Rabbit and a little green lizard named Bill whom she once booted up a chimney. It's a shared housing arrangement, and all three earn their keep by brewing up all of Wonderland's hooch. Miss Alice is officially single, but sneaks off to the mushroom patch daily for a "wrestling match" with the Cheshire Cat. Every Saturday night in Wonderland involves the ritual showing of the Matrix trilogy and everyone agrees that Keanu Reeves would have looked silly in a blue dress and white apron.

This story is based on the characters created by American McGee. Electronic Arts (EA) owns the rights. The idea of the spinning top as a weapon is my own invention. Pity it doesn't exist in the game. Also a nod to the movie "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle."


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